


a place in this world.

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - World War II, First Meetings, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: after a series of disobedience and bad luck; paul is turned in at a boarding school for troubled boys, a last attempt by his father to straighten up his son. paul quickly learns the path to improvement isn’t always paved with good intentions, nor is it easy. through struggles; paul manages to make a couple of friends, and a little more.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	a place in this world.

_November 11th, 1943._

The old mansion crept over the trees and looked quite like something out of a motion picture; something ominous, like _Dracula_ or _Frankenstein_. Paul shuddered at the thought. His father had forbidden him from going to the theatre. Warned him about the movies but, yet Paul had ignored him and gone with a group of his friends. One of the many transactions that had landed him in front of the massive building.

It was a place for young and troubled boys; that was what he had been told, though he himself felt he far from fitted that description. Though young, his fifteenth birthday had just come and gone, he was hardly _troubled_ \- rather strong-willed, surely. Alas, his father disagreed and here he stood; at the stoop of the school with a single bag at his feet with some clothes (that wouldn’t be needed much as uniforms were the common wear here) and the sound of the roaring engine of his father’s vehicle disappearing in the forests behind him.

He stood alone, reluctant to knock; wishing he could turn around and run off into the wild, wishing to follow the bellowing winds and disappear. But his feet wouldn’t move, neither forward and backwards. He counted the minutes, and the nocks in the door’s wood, meditating on his situation and the sound of crows in the trees. A sudden rustle made him look up, and he saw a window open and three dark-haired heads poke out, pushing each other for room in the narrow space. They were young boys; around his age. One with high cheekbones, one with a remarkable nose, and one with narrowed eyes- out of judgement or poor vision, Paul didn’t know, but it left a heavy weight in his chest.

“What’re ye doing there? Just standing there like a right idiot? The weather is bloody nasty!”

And sure enough, a loud crack of thunder gave out from the skies, clearing the way from rain that followed soon after. Had it rained on Paul’s way here? The ground had been wet when he left the car, but he couldn’t recall it ever raining. He had been lost in his thoughts; leaving home, leaving his brother, the war and all that followed such a thing.

“Shh, don’t talk like that! _She’ll_ hear you…”

“Eh, blast her, Rings! See if I care.”

Only the two bickering boys stood left. Paul didn’t know how to feel; about the strangers, about the house, about _anything_. But the way the boy had talked about the unknown women left a cold dread down his spine, making him wish full control of his limbs again, to run back to the city as fast as he ever could. He blinked, drops of water falling off his lashes. The boys had disappeared again; leaving him alone again. 

Paul contemplated finally knocking, getting it over with, but before he could even lift his fist- the decision was made for him with the aggressive opening of the door. A woman stood in the entrance to a brightly lit room- behind her was a grand staircase that turned halfway up the room, and on it Paul could see the three boys from before, peeking over the banister. 

“You must be Mr McCartney,” the woman muttered through gritted teeth. Paul wondered about her anger- she couldn’t possibly be mad at him? He had just arrived! He quickly made sure to nod; his voice suddenly stuck in his throat.

“Come in,” she said more calmly, though it seemed distant and cold all the same, and turned sharply around, “and wipe your feet.”

He tutted demurely after her- feeling scolded, though he had done nothing to deserve it. 

Inside wasn’t particularly warmer than the roaring storm outside. While there were flicking candles abound, all around the room- the heat seemed drained out of them, abandoned somewhere out of reach. He heard the muffled sound of feet above his head as he watched the boys ascend the stairs- mindful in sneaking away from the old lady leading Paul near the oak steps. 

“You’re sharing room with Mr Harrison. Third on the right. Breakfast is at six _precisely_. Your uniform for tomorrow is on your bed. You will get your orientation after breakfast. Goodnight.”

And with that, she left- leaving Paul in front of the stairs that seemed to grow larger and longer the more he stared and lingered at its feet. Was this to be his life now? Hollow and cold rooms? Fear of the wars and storms outside as he sits silently in a mansion in the forest away from family and loved ones? He felt the fear crawl and cling to his heart as he felt his pulse beat along to the hard rain on the windows. He took a shaking step up, one hand tightly gripped on the railing, the other on his bag, and swallowed deeply. And another. And another. And soon he found himself on the top- his eyes suddenly meeting a pair of bespectacled curious ones; so sudden he lost foothold on the polished wood, and surely he would have fallen if it weren’t for the quick action of the stranger who, with a strong, hold grabbed his wrist, pulling him safely back.

His heart was in his throat as he left the steps behind, left for safer ground. The strange boy’s hands were still around his, and Paul’s head was reeling. He felt his pulse quicken under the warm touch of the boy. He felt himself shaking, his face flushing, and looked up wide-eyed at the stranger, stammering out his thanks for the rescue. The boy only shook his head with a relaxed smile (though his cheeks were tinted pink and his chest heaved). 

“W-Who are you? I-I’m Paul…”

Paul cursed inwardly at himself. A new life, and this was his first introduction to someone of his own age?

The boy shook Paul’s hand; his hand still tightly around Paul’s, his fingers feeling Paul’s sharp pulse. He shook his head once more and let go- finally to introduce himself. 

“Why, I’m John- your new best friend.”


End file.
